


You Lead Me Like A Siren

by blackmountainbones



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Eros Mode Katsuki Yuuri, Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism, Yurio's Awkward Teenage Crush, yuri gets off to yuuri getting off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 11:00:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11183739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackmountainbones/pseuds/blackmountainbones
Summary: Just days before Onsen on Ice, Yuri wakes up in the middle of the night to discover Yuuri discovering his Eros.





	You Lead Me Like A Siren

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Phayte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phayte/gifts).



> slowly working my way through my tumblr ask box prompts! my darling saltwife asked for yuri watching yuuri jerk off. well, darling, hope this gets you off.

It was two in the morning when Yuri woke up.

You would think that after three years of competing as an athlete on an international level, Yuri would have found a way to deal with jetlag. However, despite having arrived in Hasetsu four days ago, Yuri’s body remained stubbornly on St Petersburg time.

He laid in bed for several minutes, attempting to lie still enough to trick his body back to sleep. However, after a while, it was obvious that he was far too awake to drift off so easily.

Cursing, Yuri dragged himself out of bed. He had to pee, and he was hungry--all the years of early practice meant that Yuri’s body was conditioned to eat as soon as he awakened. He knew that if he didn’t eat something soon, his stomach would turn sour and acidic, and he’d be weak and useless for the rest of the day.

He cracked open his door to walk down the hall to the bathroom, stepping lightly so as not to disturb anyone. The onsen was curiously quiet at night, which was vaguely unsettling to Yuri, who was a city boy through and through. He’d rarely even visited a town as small and tranquil as Hasetsu, since most of his skate competitions took place in major cities.

The inn was quiet, the hallway sparsely illuminated by a series of dim nightlights that cast barely enough light to see. Yuri slid the bathroom door open, and the sound of his piss hitting the bowl of the toilet sounded obscene in the silence. He flushed and turned, exiting the small bathroom back into the hall.

After a moment, he decided to head downstairs. Though the kitchen was closed, perhaps he would find some leftovers or cereal to settle his stomach. Surely the Katsukis were used to the appetite of a competitive athlete, and would not mind if he helped himself...

Yuri let himself into the kitchen, rummaging around in the large, stainless steel refrigerator that took over nearly half the room. He found a container of leftover fish and rice, sprinkling it with soy sauce and the seaweed seasoning to which he’d grown addicted since he’d arrived in Japan, then ate cold in the dining room with a spoon he’d salvaged from the rack by the sink.

The dining room was adjacent to the entrance for the bathhouse locker rooms, and Yuri’s late-night snack was interrupted by an unexpected sound from the hot springs. His first reaction was to freeze--he wasn’t certain of Japanese hot spring etiquette, but something told him that guests generally didn’t raid the kitchen in the middle of the night. Still, it was their own damn fault for not having bothered to lock the door.

Another sound echoed from the hot spring. Yuri swallowed and pushed his plate away, suddenly more curious than hungry.

He made his way out of the kitchen on light feet, careful not to make noise as he stepped. He pushed open the door to the hot spring locker room and showers, but the room was dark and silent.

As Yuri waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness around him, he heard another sound. This time, he was close enough to identify it as... a moan? And it was definitely coming from the hot spring itself, not the locker room....

Carefully, Yuri stepped toward the glass door that separated the hot spring from the locker room. Before opening it, he gazed through the glass. What he saw made him stop short: Yuuri Katsuki, his first crush and arch rival, lying at the edge of the hot pool, hard cock in his stroking hand.

Yuri gasped before he could stop himself, then froze, eyes locked on Yuuri’s naked body. Thankfully, Yuuri was too lost in his pleasure to notice that he had an audience, and Yuri briefly crossed himself out of habit before settling back to watch.

Yuri had long known that Yuuri Katsuki was a beautiful man--he’d known long before that idiot Viktor Nikiforov, anyhow, at least since Yuuri’s breathtaking bronze finish at NHK three years ago. The instant that Katsuki had glided out onto the ice, young Yuri, only twelve years old, had lost his innocence forever.

Even then, Yuuri had moved like music flowed through his veins where normal people had blood. Yuri had been instantly mesmerized by the sinuous flow of his hips, the way that his thick ass had jiggled ever-so-slightly with each jump he landed. Despite his under-rotated, sloppy triples and utter lack of quads, Yuri had fallen in instant lust with Japan’s young ace.

Two minutes later, by the end of Yuuri’s incredibly sensual short program, Yuri also had an erection, which he dealt with by excusing himself immediately afterward to masturbate frantically in the privacy of his bedroom. There had still been two skaters left to perform, and Yuri had never before stopped watching an international figure skating competition before the final scores were announced, not even for dinner--but Yuuri Katsuki danced dirty, and Yuri, a dancer himself, could not help but be affected.

That very first time, Yuri had barely managed to get his dick out of his underwear before coming all over himself. Though he’d learned since then how to tease himself, maximising his pleasure by drawing close to orgasm and then backing off, he was instantly hard and throbbing in his pajamas at the sight of Yuuri discovering his Eros.

He knew he should sneak back out into the dining room and clean up his dishes, then tiptoe upstairs to his room. He definitely shouldn’t have been caressing himself through the silky pajamas as he watched Yuuri’s fine-boned fingers fly up and down his dick while he did something filthy with his hips, something that was not altogether unfamiliar to Yuri. He was certain he had seen the Japanese skater make exactly the same motion in some of his programs--the very ones that Yuri liked best.

Yuuri made a sound that was halfway between whimper and a moan, a pathetic, needy thing. It should have made Yuri sneer, but he stared at the scene before him, transfixed, unable to pretend that he was disgusted when this was one of his shameful wank fantasies come to life. Yuri cradled his own erection in his hand, holding onto himself through the silky fabric but not stroking just yet.

How many times had he imagined Yuuri’s cock? Yet despite all the time he’d spent thinking about what Yuuri’s dick might look like, it was still a surprise to see it in the flesh: red and thick with a fat, purpling head. It was obvious that Yuuri had been at this for a while; his dick was dark with blood, his balls drawn tight between his legs despite the steam from the hot spring.

Fuck pork cutlet bowls-- _this_ was Eros, Yuuri Katsuki with his dick in his hand, touching himself with abandon, completely unselfconscious.

Maybe, Yuri wondered, it was performance anxiety that caused Yuuri to fail at skating Viktor’s routine. Yuuri’s attempts at Eros had failed for precisely one reason: Yuuri’s insecurity. He was too deliberate, too conscious when he performed, yet it was obvious that Yuuri knew exactly what sexual pleasure was like. No one could be innocent and touch himself like this. Even someone as inexperienced as Yuri could see that.

Yuri had never even seen another erect penis in the flesh before, but he could already tell how hot and heavy Yuuri would feel in his hand. He groped his own dick, which was already wet enough to leave a small spot on his silky green yukata, then pushed down his pajamas and underwear with a decisive motion.

Fuck it--Yuri wasn’t going to be able to sleep until he’d come at least once to this. How could anyone blame him, when the object of his fantasies was laid out against the steps leading into the hot spring? Certainly if Yuuri hadn’t wanted someone to see him jerk off, he would have chosen somewhere more private to do it.

Yuri reached down to grab his dick as he watched Yuuri touch himself. His cock was fat enough that his fingers barely closed around it, and from where he was crouched, Yuri could see the way the skin pulled up and down the shaft, covering and uncovering the plump purple head. Yuri's own foreskin wasn’t as long, and didn’t cover the pink tip of his own cock completely, even when he stretched it as far as it would go.

Yuri tried to pace himself to match Yuuri’s rhythm, but his hand sped up on his dick without his permission. He slowed himself down, but as soon as he started to watch Yuuri again, his hand increased its tempo, sliding up and down the shaft more quickly.

He groaned in frustration, pausing to squeeze his dick at the base just as Yuuri pulled on his balls, twisting them a bit as he yanked them down. To Yuri’s surprise, Yuuri’s dick seemed to get even harder from the rough treatment, and he found himself copying the motion.

It _hurt_ \--maybe it wasn’t all bad, but Yuri let out a soft painful sound all the same. Immediately, he let go, biting his lip to force himself silent. Though he was sure Katsuki couldn’t see him through the darkened glass, Yuri’s cheeks flared with shame all the same. He _had_ to stay silent; if Yuuri found him with his dick in his hand, Yuri was certain he would either die or come or both, instantly. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to stop now.

He curled his hand around his penis. It was neither as long or as thick as Yuuri’s, but it filled Yuri’s palm perfectly all the same. God, he was so hard, just watching as Yuuri humped his hand, screwing his hips as he twisted his grip. The thick skin dragged on the fat head with a delicious filthy sound, even more erotic than Yuuri’s throaty moans. He was definitely making himself feel good...

All of a sudden, the hand that had been holding Yuuri’s balls dove down between his cheeks. Yuri’s cock throbbed in his hand--it was obvious that Yuuri was touching himself _there_. Yuri’s own hole clenched in sympathy. He’d recently started touching himself there, imaging Yuuri’s thick fingers in place of his own, but previous experience had informed Yuri that it was hopeless to even try without lube, especially since he had ballet practice tomorrow. The last thing he needed was to have his dance belt riding up his sore ass because he’d tried to fuck himself open without lube.

Yuuri lifted his hand from between his legs and _licked_ his fingers, filthy and wet. It was all too easy for Yuri to imagine the man slobbering on his dick instead, getting him wet enough to rut between Yuuri’s cheeks and tease that tight hole with the tip of his cock... Fuck, this felt so _good_ ; Yuri wanted to come _now_ but he also wanted to come while watching Yuuri come, so he let go of his dick, which throbbed in protest. Yuri ignored his stubborn penis, instead watching Yuuri coat his fingers in saliva.

He continued to stare as Yuuri pulled himself off of the onsen steps to lie on his side next to the hot spring, giving Yuri a perfect view of his perfect round ass as well as the fingertips reaching in between his cheeks. Yuri had no idea how he was supposed to share a ballet studio with Yuuri the next morning without embarrassing himself. He made a mental note to make sure he wore his sweats and not his leggings. Hopefully they were clear of any embarrassing stains...

Yuri strained his eyes for a glimpse at Yuuri’s hole, but the light in the onsen was dim, and all he saw was the the dark stripe of Yuuri’s crack, his long, thick fingers disappearing into the shadow. It was enough--Yuri bit his lip harder as his hand tightened around his own dick. Yuuri moaned, a long low thing, so intimate that Yuri swore he could the sound rumbling against his own chest.

He began stroking himself again, slowly this time, trying to match the languid pace with which Yuuri was fucking his own fingers. Yuuri’s brown body was still somewhat softer than one might expect for a world-class athlete, the cheeks of his ass thick enough to ripple with the thrusting motions of his hand. His ass was so thick that Yuri couldn’t be sure how many fingers he had up inside himself, but he was certain that it had to be at least two...

Every time he’d imagined this, Yuri had thought about Yuuri fingering _him_ , never the other way around. It seemed like a gross oversight, especially considering that Katsuki had the _best_ ass in figure skating, male or female. Yuri’s cock drooled as he considered the possibilities, the precum making a slick sound as his fist stroked up and down his own dick.

His balls twinged again with the desire to come, and Yuri reached down to twist them. This time, the pain was a welcome distraction from his orgasm, delaying it without diminishing his erection. No wonder Katsuki liked it so much... Yuri yanked again, a whimper escaping his bitten lips when another arc of pain radiated from his groin, making his dick jump in his palm.

Just as Yuri managed to stave off his orgasm yet again, Yuuri twisted himself onto his back, pushing his feet onto the ground. He lifted his right leg up, pushing his thigh against his abdomen. Both knees were bent, his left foot planted on the concrete, while his right foot dangled in the air, bent into a delicate arch.

Perhaps it was all the ballet, but Yuri let himself be distracted from the sight of Yuuri fingering himself by the graceful line of Yuuri’s foot where it cast a shadow on his warm-toned skin. Despite the abuse Yuuri’s feet were subject to each day, or maybe because of it, his feet were still one of the most beautiful parts of his body, worthy of worship just as much as his plush ass. They were thin and graceful with long toes and a high arch, the kind of feet that made Yuri’s own look stubby and ugly in comparison.

Fuck, was Yuri really jerking off to the sight of Yuuri Katsuki’s _feet_? He was spending way too much time with that pervert Viktor. He forced himself to watch Yuuri fucking himself on his fingers, but kept sneaking glances at the acutely arched sole of Yuuri’s foot from the corner of his eye while he stroked himself frantically, still aching to get off. Yuri wished again that he had lube--his precum was too thick and sticky to be slippery for long, and the tight grip with which he held his dick as painful as it was pleasurable.

Still, he couldn’t let go of his penis, couldn’t take his eyes off of Yuuri’s hand where it disappeared into the shadow between his cheeks, his graceful feet, or the lock of Yuuri’s black hair that curled damply with sweat and steam at the nape of his neck. His hand stuttered on his penis: that small detail was unexpected, and Yuri was struck with the sudden desire to pull it, to yank Yuuri back by his unkempt hair, and fit his dick between those round asscheeks as he bit along the tendons cording Yuuri’s thick neck.

But all Yuri could do was stroke his own cock, kneeling shamefully behind dark glass and hoping that the darkness was enough to cover his shame. As he touched himself, he heard Yuuri let out a series of grunts, sounding like nothing more than the pig he _was_ as his untouched dick lurched between his legs and erupted with semen. Two long jets of come arced over his abdomen, and then he gripped his shooting penis with the hand that wasn’t currently in his ass, almost certainly pressing down of his prostate, and stroked himself through the rest of his orgasm.

Yuri tried to wait until Yuuri was done before coming, but just when he thought the man was finished, he stroked himself faster, and another shot of semen spilled into the hollow of his bellybutton, and it was all over--Yuri was coming so hard, every muscle in his body tensed, including his eyelids.

Frantically, he cupped the wet head of his penis in his palm, trying to catch as much of his cum as he could, not wanting to leave evidence of his spying for Yuuri to discover. So Yuri drank the warm liquid from his hand. It was bitter, but not in a bad way--an acquired taste, like coffee, or dark beer. Yuri had grown to like it, had wondered what another man’s come would taste like as he’d done this, and now he imagined Yuuri. He would be briny like the sea, bitter in a different way, maybe like the bergamot he took in his tea...

When he opened his eyes, Yuuri was just coaxing himself through the last of his orgasm, his dick jerking but dry. Finally, he let go of his penis, slowly withdrawing his fingers from his hole with a slick sound that made Yuri’s mouth water as he lapped the last of his own semen from his hand. It was dirtier than anything he’d ever seen in porn or even his own imagination, and he knew that he would be reliving this moment more than once, preferably in the comfort of his own bed with a bottle of lube within reach.

Yuri was so zoned out on his orgasm that he barely noticed Yuuri lift himself to his feet, stepping toward the door to the shower behind which Yuri was crouched. Yuri froze, his penis soft and still sticking out from his pajamas, afraid to move lest Yuuri catch a glimpse of shifting shadows behind the glass.

But Yuuri just grabbed a towel to wipe himself clean from the wooden bench near the sauna, just a few meters from the shower room door. Yuri choked down a sigh of relief, thankful that Yuuri wasn’t wearing his glasses--he almost certainly was too blind to see Yuri, even from the short distance.

Yuri paused for a moment to appreciate Yuuri’s frame close-up: his belly puffed out below his navel, and he had a slight muffin top to his flanks which only served to make his ass look fuller. Though he knew the extra weight was likely the reason Yuuri could not perform his quads reliably, Yuri thought he might prefer this thicker version of Yuuri to the trimmer man he’d been at last year’s Grand Prix Final in Sochi. It was selfish, but so was Yuri.

As deliberately and silently as he could, Yuri pulled his pajama pants up, and did a once-over in the darkness, checking for any spilled come. There was a small patch on the floor, thankfully just a few centimeters from the glass window, and Yuri grimaced but used the sleeve of his robe to wipe it clean.

It had to be obvious how blissed out he was--his eyes were glassy and barely focused, robes and hair rumpled. He’d have to rinse the cum stains out in the sink before Mari came in to collect his sheets and laundry, but it would wait until the morning. Yuri was far too tired to bother changing just to walk down the hall to the bathroom and clean his robes, even if it meant he’d have to scrub harder to get the dried stuff off. All Yuri could think of was sleep, and how Yuuri had looked with his legs spread and his hand up his hole...

His dick twinged, and Yuri made his way back to his room on light feet before he could get another erection. That would have to wait until he was lying back on his futon, trying not to feel the way the soft sheets cradled his cock. 

Yuri groaned and rolled over onto his belly, dick plump and thick, not quite hard but well on its way. He sighed, grinding his hips against the firm cushion, already resigned to getting himself off once more before even trying to get back to sleep--Goddamn Katsudon and his stupid Eros for interfering with his rest just days before Onsen On Ice...

 

 

Yuuri stepped out of the hot springs, stretching languidly. He stood proudly naked as he dripped off, not bothering with a towel--the one he’d brought out with him was smeared with semen, and he liked the contrast of the brisk spring air against his hot skin.

He lifted his arms over his head, and rolled his shoulders and neck back before reaching for his robe, which was folded in a neat blue square on the bench with his glasses atop. He slicked back his hair to keep it from dripping on the lenses, then slipped the glasses onto his face.

The onsen was quiet, and a cursory glance informed him that all the guests were sleeping, every window black. It must have been late, and Yuuri yawned, suddenly exhausted. He’d been running on raw adrenaline for the past several days, trying everything method he could think of to discover his Eros, and after the endorphins from his earlier orgasm had worn off, Yuuri was sleepy and sluggish.

He quickly wrapped himself in the blue silk robe, then opened the door to the showers and locker rooms slowly enough to avoid making a noise. When he reached for the handle to slide the door shut, however, he felt something sticky against his fingers. Closer inspection revealed that the substance was white and sticky and smelled kind of like bleach--someone had watched him touch himself, and undoubtedly touched themselves too....

Yuuri’s cheeks flushed. He was half embarrassed, and half aroused... What if it had been Viktor? The idea made the blush bloom on his chest. Surely if Viktor had jerked off watching him, it meant he had enjoyed the show, right? The possibility that Viktor had liked watching Yuuri enough to get himself off to the sight made Yuuri’s blood pound in his veins.

He shivered and flicked on the light, using his dirty towel to wipe up the last of the mess. The come had trickled down the wall, and it took Yuuri some vigorous scrubbing to clear it away completely. He’d intended to throw the towel directly into the laundry bin to avoid Mari’s snooping (his sister always claimed was just her being thorough in her job, though Yuuri knew the truth); instead, he took the towel upstairs with him to hide in his closet where even Mari hadn’t dared look ever since she’d found his Fleshlight and the vibrating dildo that one time.

Thankfully, the upstairs hallway was silent. It appeared that all the lodgers were asleep; the motion-sensitive light in the hallway flickered on as soon as Yuuri stepped out of the stairwell. Each door was tightly shut, and Yuuri felt a little less exposed, even though the towel he was holding was filthy with the proof that someone had masturbated as they watched.

Yuuri walked down the hallway carefully. The family’s quarters were on the third floor, accessible only by a private stairwell at the end of the east wing. He tiptoed down the hall, pausing to fish his key out of the pocket of his robe, when he heard the sound coming from the last door on the left.

It was raspy, like sheets rustling, as though someone was tossing and turning in an attempt to force themselves back to sleep. Yuuri noticed that the door to Yuri’s room was cracked open, ever so slightly, no more than a centimeter or two. He heard another sound, this time something low and rough, almost a growl.  

Could it have been...? Yuuri flushed and shook his head, looking down at the towel in his hand. No, no way. It wasn’t possible. Yuri Plisetsky _hated_ his guts.

A breathy sound escaped through the slim crack in the door. It sounded almost like Yuri was saying his own name, except drawn out...

Fuck. Yuri wasn’t moaning his own name, he was moaning for _Yuuri_. There was another rough rustling sound, and Yuuri forced the crack of Yuri’s slightly-opened door a few centimeters wider, just enough to shove the towel through the crack in Yuri’s door as he unlocked the stairwell. With shaking fingers, Yuuri closed the security latch, something his family rarely bothered doing. However, the Katsuki family had never before played host to an angry tiger, and Yuuri wasn’t taking any chances.

**Author's Note:**

> let the muse know you liked it! keep those comments and kudos coming, all your kind words bring us to new lows!
> 
> hit me up on tumblr [@the-stoned-ranger](http://the-stoned-ranger.tumblr.com)


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